


stand by your man

by CapnShellhead



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, marvel 1872 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: Anthony Stark was a nuisance and Sheriff Steven Rogers wasn't sure he knew how to handle him.





	stand by your man

**Author's Note:**

> Some aspects of this story (names and professions) are different from the comic. As a forewarning, there are many elements of internalized homophobia in this story. If you're not familiar with 1872, you can still read this fic. Just imagine a Brokeback Mountain AU for Steve and Tony (without the super sad ending).
> 
> Short playlist I listened to while making this: https://open.spotify.com/user/alexanny23/playlist/7s3Pq6K93Dlk7l7DIdI9yW?si=6RIFbRvA

Sheriff Steven Rogers heard a lot of things when Anthony Stark rolled into town.

Some of them true. Some of them exaggerated. He’d heard that Anthony Stark was a spoiled, rich boy; son of a weapons developer. That was true. He’d heard that Anthony Stark was a drunk. That was true. He’d heard that Anthony Stark was a handsome devil. Not that Steven would admit it in public, but that was also true. He’d heard a lot of things about Anthony Stark and the first time they met, Steven was arresting him.

You’re allowed to drink until last call. Then you had to go home. Everybody knew that.

It seemed that wasn’t the way things were where Stark was from and the sheriff was called to help the man find his way home. Until he decided to be a complete nuisance and make Steven’s life difficult.

“You know, this is harassment,” Stark slurred, unsteady on his feet as Steven took hold of him. Picking him up from his place on the steps outside Josie’s bar.

“I’m taking you home.”

“You’re following me home. I can get there just fine on my own,” he murmured, leaning into Steven, the smell of booze clearly evident. “You know, I don’t have a home. I’m staying at that boarding house over there.” He pointed across the way at the crooked, three story building where a couple of women were moving inside.

“The whore- the house with the pretty ladies,” Steven corrected and Stark laughed at him, his eyes alit. They were blue, Steven noted. Same shade as his own but something about them, something about Stark made them seem brighter - _vibrant_. It gives him pause, long enough for Stark to slip a little in his grasp and nearly fall to the ground. He hauls him back up, ignoring the pleasant laugh bubbling from Stark’s mouth.

“Yes, the whorehouse. I’m not a whore; you didn’t ask but you should know that. I’ll give you whatever you want free of charge,” he said with a leer and a tone that sent a flash of fire down Steven’s spine.

He cleared his throat and straightened Stark in his grip and started marching towards the boarding house. “Let’s get you to your room, Stark.”

“Stark, Stark, Stark; that’s my father’s name. Call me Tony.” Steven ignores him so Stark lets out a huff and steps in front of Steven. To Steven’s surprise, he was only a few inches shorter than him. His posture, his mannerisms, they all made him seem larger than life. He stared up at Steven, petulant, “Tony.”

Steven sighs, runs a tired hand over his face. “Okay, Tony. What’s it gonna take to get you to your room and out of the street?”

“A kiss?” At Steven’s pointed stare, he asks, “Why do you care so much?” His eyes narrowed as he added, “Everyone else would’ve just passed me by.”

“I care because it’s my job to care.”

“Nah, you moved me away from Josie’s property. That’s all you’re required to do.” He leaned up and further into Steven’s face. He smelled like oil and copper underneath the booze. It was a curious scent but Steven had heard he spent his waking hours building things for people around town. “Are you just unusually thorough? I can work with that.”

Steven rolled his eyes and took hold of Stark’s arm again. “I care because it’s the right thing to do. Now move it. Tony,” he added pointedly.

X

The next time, a redhead appears outside of the station. She knocks on the door urgently and when he opens it, she’s looking at him nervously. “I hate to bother you Sheriff but we didn’t know who else to call.”

“We?” Steven asked as he slipped on his jacket. It was getting colder outside and if this was about what he thought it was about, he should hurry. It wouldn’t be good for Stark to get a cold on top of his usual hangover. Maybe he’d be less inclined to get soused in that case, he wondered. Maybe he’d stay in and just tinker with things or whatever he did in his spare time.

“We, Sheriff. Me and the other girls at the boarding house.” Steven paused, just a moment. Long enough for the woman to sigh and get in his face, her blue eyes hard. “We’re not all whores, you know? And those of us that are, it’s none of your business. You have a job and so do they. Funny how they get the dirty looks and the men that patron our home shake your hand at church every Sunday.”

Steven was taken aback and a little ashamed as he lowered his head. “My apologies. I didn’t mean – it’s not my place to judge. I’m sorry, Miss…?”

She eyed him for a moment and then nodded, “Potts. Virginia Potts.”

She filled him in on the way over, “Made it outside the tavern and just passed out.” They came to stop outside of Foggy’s and she hurried up the steps to where Stark was passed out, his back propped up against the outside wall. It wasn’t last call yet. Unusual for Stark to be this far-gone before the night had really begun. Steven came up the stairs and took hold of his wrist. “Used to be Rhodes that helped him home but… he’s gone now. Tony came here for him, you know?” she asked as she ran a handkerchief over Tony’s face. “This was Rhodes’ home and Tony stayed here for a little while before his father called him home the first time. Then the war happened and Rhodes passed. Tony never stopped blaming himself for not being here.”

Steven slides a hand under Tony’s legs as he hoists him up. He was lighter than Steven expected. Then again, he’d never seen him eat. His head lolls into Steven’s chest, his face chilled from the cold air. Steven sighs and looks to Potts, “Ma’am, could I trouble you for your scarf?”

She nods and pulls it from around her shoulders, bringing a flush to Steven’s face as he realizes her arms were bare underneath. “Oh, I didn’t realize-“

“I’m wearing several layers and I’m a big girl, Sheriff. I can handle it.” She leans in, the smell of perfume wafting through the air as she wraps it around Tony and sends Steve ahead.

It was a longer walk to the boardinghouse from Foggy’s. There were few people out; probably because they’d all found warmer places to be. He’s almost grateful for the long walk because he was brimming with questions and Miss Potts kept up a steady stream of talking. “That’s why he gives so much to this town. He’d give every dime he had if he could. He cares about this town; maybe he doesn’t show it the same way you do but he cares.”

They arrive at the boarding house and she holds the door open for him. This is the first time Steven’s been inside. In all the years he’d been sheriff, he’d never had a reason to enter this establishment. He can’t help the part of his stomach that twists at the rumors he’d heard about this place and about the women that lived here. But Miss Potts lived here and she was right – who was he to judge?

She looks up the stairwell and then back at Steven. “Please?”

Steven looks from her wide eyes to Tony, unconscious in his arms. His head was warm on Steven’s chest and sighs, “Of course.”

He starts up the stairs, hell bent on keeping his eyes straight ahead. “He helps people. He helped me.” The walls in this place were thin, Steven noted. He can hear moaning, grunts and squeaking bedsprings. Women’s voices; men’s voices, giggling and loud conversations. It looked small on the outside but there were more people inside than Steven had expected. “Got me out of a bad marriage. Not the kind you’re thinking but it didn’t look good for a young woman to leave her husband. I didn’t have a penny to my name and Tony helped me.” A woman in a brassiere and bloomers passes them by with a bawdy wink for Steven. He flushes brightly and gives a polite nod, his hands clammy where they held Tony up.

One woman with short hair in a nightgown comes up to them, leans in immediately to pull the scarf back from Tony’s face and touch his cheek. “Poor guy, he’s cold. You better get him to bed.” She looked up at Steven, waited for a moment before smiling. “You’ve never been here, have you Sheriff? They’re just shoulders and thighs and breasts. Where’d they make this one, Pepper?”

“I don’t know,” Potts says with a quiet laugh. The small woman shakes her head and returns to one of the rooms.

Potts stops outside of a room a little further down the hall and opens it, holds it as Steven carries Tony in. The room is small. Much smaller than Steven would expect for a man with Tony’s means. There was a small desk in the corner covered with small pieces of iron and tools. An unlit lantern in the corner that Potts hurried over to light. Steven sets Tony down on the bed and steps back. Watches as Tony stirs enough to bury his face in his pillows and stills again.

“Is he going to be alright?” he asked quietly.

Potts looks at him for a long moment before returning to Tony, her face drawn. “I think so. I hope so.” She carefully guided Tony out of the room and closed the door behind her. “You know Tony.”

Steven nods, even as he thinks to himself, _No, I don’t_.

X

A few weeks later, Steven was treated to Tony showing up at the station. He was escorted by a less than pleased Bucky who dropped Stark on the floor in front of Steven’s desk. Steven frowned at the rough treatment and watched as Tony tried to climb out of his drunken sprawl. Bucky crossed his arms and stared at Steven disapprovingly, “This yours?”

“What?” Steven asked, caught off guard for a moment as he went over to help Tony up. He gets Tony on his feet as the man glares at Bucky.

“Your problem,” Bucky elaborated. “He asked for you.”

“What’d you pick him up for?”

“Drunk and disorderly. Well, less disorderly and more just drunk. I was off duty playing cards with Banner in Joe’s bar and Stark was being loud in the corner.”

“It wasn’t that and you know it,” Stark replied, stumbling slightly. Steven steadies him as Bucky responds.

“You were being loud in the corner,” he repeats louder.

“It wasn’t my volume and you know it. It was my choice of company,” he muttered. Steven frowned, looked to Bucky to see him shrug and return to his own desk.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s well and good for old creeps like Richards to hit on women but when I show the slightest interest in Barton, it’s out in the street for me.” Steve froze, his heart pounded as he took in Stark’s defiance and Bucky’s avoidance.

Steven knew Bucky knew he was… different. He’d never been caught; his badge had never come into question but Bucky knew it in the way Steven never showed any interest in the women around town. The way he never snuck a peek, not even once, when they came across one of the evening ladies offering their services. The way he never had to worry about Steven doing anything untoward with Natasha when they were alone together. Bucky knew and maybe he didn’t like it, maybe it made their jobs more difficult but Bucky knew.

If he took Stark out… had he done it for his own good? If Stark was blatantly telling the world about his preferences – there were a lot of men that wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of thing. A lot of men that were a lot bigger than Stark.

“That right?” Steven asked Bucky carefully.

“What are you asking him for? I’m the victim here,” Stark interjected.

“Of what, Mr. Stark?” Steven asked.

“I was having a good time.”

“You were being too loud,” Bucky said again. He gave Steven a sharp look, grabbed his jacket and left the station.

Stark watched him go with a frown, “He’s grumpy, that one. You’re much better company,” he said with a wink. His face was closer and Steven could see the flirty look in his eyes. He could just see Stark in the dimly lit tavern, his face soft in the candlelight as he leaned over into Barton’s space. He could picture Tony reaching across the table for Barton’s hand or maybe he’d reach up, touch his cheek and pull him into a kiss. Steven could imagine what Stark would feel like under his hands, the scratch of his goatee on Steven’s face, what he’d taste like.

He pulls back, straightens his vest as he moves away from Tony. “I aim to please,” he says, pulling his collar away from him to cool down. He sits down in his chair and watches as Tony grins down at him.

“That you do,” Tony says with a wink. He leans over Steven’s desk. “How many times do I have to ask, my good sir?”

Steven feels himself start to smile so he covers his mouth and tries a new angle. “You’ve been chasing me so long, I might not be worth it. I could be terrible in the sack.”

Tony laughs, his eyes alit. “I know you’re not. You know how I know?” He stepped around the desk to sit on the edge, his thigh inches from Steven’s. He’s reminded of the woman in the boarding house, the way she’d laughed at his uncomfortable need to maintain decorum. He tried to concentrate on Stark’s face, how animated he was, his hands aflutter as he spoke but Steven couldn’t think past the few inches separating his thigh from Stark’s. The heat he could feel coming off of him through his slacks. If he just slid his foot over, just the slightest bit, enough that anyone would assume it was an accident. Just shifting to make himself more comfortable, just slide his foot over and … then they were touching. Just a little; just a bit. Just Tony’s leg pressed against his and his body heat seeping into Steve’s.

He lets out a breath he’d been holding and bites down a smile as Stark continues, “You’re a giver, Rogers. You give everything you have to the people of this town. And you’re kind. You could’ve tossed me into the cell and be done with me but you don’t. You take me home and you make sure I stay there. You’re a good guy.”

Steven eyes him for a moment, a warm sense of calm coming over him as he did. The fondness in Tony’s eyes, it wasn’t something he could look away from or dismiss easily. He wanted to stay here, just sit here, their thighs touching while Tony smiled at him like he was the only person in the world. But he couldn’t.

He blinks and lowers his head to his hands, “You’re assuming a lot based on a few acts of kindness.”

“When that’s all you get in a year…” Tony trailed off, his words hanging in the air and making Steve wonder about Tony’s past yet again. He was a nuisance, yes, but at the heart of it he was a brilliant, generous man. He expressed it in small inventions, donations and small acts of charity. He’d heard about the chair Tony had built for Xavier across town. Tony cared about people, especially the women in the boarding house. Steven could say all of this but then Tony’s standing again and asking, “Am I being detained?”

“Do you need to be?” Steven asked.

Stark cocked his head to the side, a teasing smile on his face, “Could be fun.”

X

There were good times. There were bad times. Some worse times. And some really awful times.

Mr. Stark came into town. _The_ Mr. Stark.

No one was sure why exactly. Natasha managed to get the scoop, having been close with Yelena who lived in the whore – the boarding house. Mr. Stark was in town in hopes of luring Tony away to run the company. He didn’t have long left and he wanted to pass the company on to his son, as was his right. Tony was heir to the fortune – except, as Steven understood it, Tony didn’t want it. He didn’t want to make weapons, didn’t want to be responsible for shedding more blood. Steven could understand that.

What he didn’t understand was why Tony’s father being in town mean more and more calls out to pick him up from the taverns. Often literally as he drank so much he either passed out or was well on his way there when Steven arrived. Things got bad. It got to the point that the taverns didn’t send for the station anymore. They just reached out to Steven directly.

He arrived one night to see Tony half asleep and leaning against the doorframe of the station. “Tony, what are you doing?” He hurried over to pull Tony’s arm over his shoulder.

“What does it look like? I’m stargazing,” he slurred.

“With your eyes closed?”

“Knew I was missing something.” He looked up at Steve, his eyes wide and miserable. Their vibrance was dulled, muted, like he’d lost his light. Steven feels his heart twist and he feels a little sick; something was very wrong here.

“Why are you so unhappy, Tony?” he asks as he pulls Tony to sit on the top step with him. He doesn’t object to Tony leaning over and eventually draping himself across his lap. He feels like a furnace, his body heat seeping into Steven’s thighs and stomach. This way, he doesn’t see when Steven lets the fond smile take over his face and runs his fingers through his hair.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a father. A real one, I mean,” Tony whispers. “My old man… my old man,” he starts brokenly before he drifts off.

Steve pauses in his ministrations before he keeps going; his short nails scratching lightly at Tony’s scalp as he snores. They shouldn’t stay here long. It was late and he should be getting some sleep. They both should. By the looks of things, Tony hadn’t been getting a lot of sleep lately. Steven knew enough to know Mr. Stark wasn’t a good man. A son didn’t speak that way about his father. There was tough love, there was discipline and there was abuse and he didn’t know which camp Mr. Stark fell into. He knew that if Tony were a child and he heard him speak this way, heard him sound this small and – and afraid, he’d be dropping by the Stark house to have a word. But Tony was an adult and Steven couldn’t fight the past. All he could do was take care of the man on his doorstep.

He shifts Tony’s limbs into a more comfortable position and begins to sing, “Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling. From glen to glen and down the mountainside. The summer’s gone and all the flowers are dying. Tis you, tis you, must go and I must bide.”

X

Steven was dreaming.

He knew that.

It was dark outside and the station was dark save for a lantern on Steven’s desk. Bucky had retired for the night but he was still here. Not unusual. In fact, that was the way things had been for a while now. There’s a knock on the door and Steven goes to open it, knowing exactly who was on the other side.

He opens the door to see Tony in a big overcoat. He holds out a hand and Steven sighs and pulls him in. “What are you doing here, Stark?”

“You know why. Its your head, Sheriff.” He pushed Steven over to his desk chair and pushed him down. His hands took hold of the tie around his jacket as he added, “It’s all a little too plain, don’t you think? I mean, at least imagine your bedroom or a – a castle or one of those fancy estates. Instead, you think about the station? Even when you’re not working, you’re dreaming about working.”

“Does this have a point?” he asks sternly and Tony glares at him briefly before his hands loosens the tie.

His coat falls away and he’s standing in front of Steven in a red and black corset, garters and lacy black undergarments. They were indecently short, barely covering more than Tony’s staff and Steven gasps, reaches up to pull the coat closed again. Even knowing it was late and no one usually came around the station, he checks around, makes sure no one had seen.

“What are you doing?” he asks as Tony fights with him to let go of the coat. He steps back and the lapels slip from Steven’s hands. He pulls the coat all of the way off and tosses the coat on the desk behind him. Steven has no choice but to see.

He swallows thickly, his cock hardening in his trousers as he traces the manufactured curves of the corset, the line of Tony’s thigh where it presses against his own. The scratch of the hosiery against Steven’s trouser leg. Steven can’t resist running a hand up the back of the Tony’s thigh, sighing as Tony moves in closer to him. He looks up to see Tony watching him indulgently, his hands coming up to rest on Steven’s shoulders.

He slides his fingers in Tony’s hair and pulls him close. He can feel Tony’s breath on his face, eyes his soft pink lips, wet with indentations where his teeth bit down in anticipation. Steven runs the pad of his thumb over them, his heart rate ramping up as he leaned in. Then Tony whispers, “Its your head, Sheriff.”

And then he wakes up alone.

X

The next time Tony falls asleep on his lap, they made it inside the station. He took Tony to a cell, not because Tony was a threat but because it at least had a cot inside. He hadn’t been making it to the boarding house the last few times. Mostly because it was much too late to bother those young ladies by knocking on their door and partly because Steven wanted to be sure he was getting some sleep. Sometimes – most times, it led to breakfast in the morning when Tony was irritable but surprisingly open. Steven learned most things about him those mornings when Tony was too dazed to talk his way around Steven’s questions.

This particular morning, Steven had fallen asleep putting Tony to bed. He wakes when Bucky opens the door to the station and comes over to find him there. Tony was draped across his lap, his shoes on the floor, bundled up beneath the threadbare blanket. Bucky stands in front of the cell and just stares at him for a long time before turning around and heading over to the coffee machine. When he speaks, his voice is calm.

“Were it not for that badge and us growing up together, you’d be in that cell for real. You know that.” It’s not a question. He turns around, his hands on his hips, a stern expression on his face. “He’s going to get you into trouble.”

Steven stared at him, too groggy to say anything in response.

“I never minded… what you are.” Steven’s heart rate ticks up, his mouth dry. This was the closest they’d come to saying it out loud. “You’re my friend. You’re the kid that stuck beside me through the droughts, the lack of food, when the rest of our friends lost out to the consumption. You’re my friend and I would follow you over a cliff. I followed you to this town. But this – this with – with him?” He shook his head in disgust. “He’s going to get you into trouble. He doesn’t keep secrets.”

Steven swallowed thickly, his eyes wet as he lowered his gaze to where Tony was softly snoring. His hands shake as his fingers twine and hold fast to Tony’s clothes.

“Everyone knew what he was the moment he rolled into town but they put up with it because he’s rich and his fortune alone could run this town for years. But I don’t care. He’s a drunk, Steve. He’s just like-“

Steven’s head snapped up, “He’s not.”

“Steve, you’re too close to this.”

“He’s not like my father. Look at him,” he whispered harshly. His eyes fell to Tony again as he spoke, “He’s done his best for this town. Maybe it’s not what you would’ve done. Xavier, Miss Knight, what he did for Miss Van Dyne. Maybe you don’t like what he is… what _we_ are, but he’s not the person you’re making him out to be.” He shook his head, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his heart. “He’s nothing like my father.”

“Look at me,” Bucky says. Steven turns to him defiantly, his heart in his throat. Bucky studied him for a long moment before nodding to himself. “It’s nobody’s business but yours what you do in the dark. But you’re my business and if he – if this comes back on you, I’m not sticking my neck out for him. “

Steven stared at him and then returned to Tony who shifted and pressed his face further into Steve’s stomach. He can’t choke down the smile fast enough, even knowing Bucky was still watching him. He sits up straighter and runs his fingers through Tony’s curls. He purposefully doesn’t spare Bucky another glance even as his deputy huffs out a frustrated breath and returns to his desk.

X

The next time, Natasha sends for him. She’d been out at a tavern with her girls when Tony and Mr. Stark walked in. It was rare to see them together at night. Presumably because the older gentleman retired early when Tony’s night was just beginning.

He’s arguing with Bucky about which one of them makes the better cup of coffee when Natasha comes barreling through the door, hair in disarray. She’s angry, furious by the looks of it and she rushes right over to Steven’s desk. She doesn’t have to speak, Steven just knows. He’d felt off the whole night and he couldn’t quite explain why. Now he knew.

He grabs his holster and follows after her. They head to Foggy’s, the music blaring from inside. They enter and at first Steven doesn’t know what’s wrong until he sees Tony slumped in the corner of the bar, crumpled on the floor trying to make himself smaller. Howard Stark sits on a stool, calmly drinking whiskey from a glass.

Steven can feel eyes on him and he doesn’t know what went on, not exactly, he has no proof. And yet he finds himself marching towards the bar, his hand clenched into a fist at his side. Then Bucky’s stepping in front of him, a shake of his head before he goes the rest of the way. “Mr. Stark,” he greets him, his eyes returning to Tony in the corner. “What happened here?”

Howard doesn’t spare Tony a glance as he says, “Boy can’t hold his liquor.” Steven hurries to Tony’s side, kneels and starts gathering his limbs, letting Tony lean into him. Tony’s quiet, scarily quiet, his breath labored as he leans into Steven, his eyes on the floor. He was nothing like the man Steven had come to know. He’d seen him in various stages of drunk but never like this. It gives Steven pause; it twists his stomach and makes him examine Howard more critically.

Bucky’s mouth twists, his tone deadening, “Yeah? That all that happened?” He looks to Luke behind the bar who nods his head. Steven and Bucky straighten. “We’ll just take him home.”

Howard snorts, sloshes his whiskey some before taking another sip. “The whorehouse, you mean. He should feel right at home there. House full of women… wasted on someone like him.”

The tone puts Steven even more on edge. He didn’t understand how a man could be so dismissive of his own son. Tony may not be the easiest person to deal with but he was intelligent, he was kind. Steven steadies his jaw, stands to step in front of Tony and forces himself to keep his mouth shut. Tony’s still quiet, not speaking, shivering slightly from his place on the floor.

“Should just leave him there,” Howard mutters and Steven feels his temper come to a head.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

Howard raises his hands in mock surrender, “Sorry. Don’t mind me. Way I hear it, you’re _very_ good at doing your job.” He swallows the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass upside down on the table. “I hope it wasn’t for money because you won’t see a dime of it.”

“I don’t need your money,” Steven said.

Howard scoffs, “Right. Heard that before.” He grabs his jacket, drops some money on the table and walks past his son without a second glance. Steven was at a complete loss. “You go on and take my boy home, Sheriff. I trust you won’t take advantage of his state.”

A chill runs down Steven’s spine and he’s too late to stop Natasha from slamming Howard into the wall and jamming her forearm in his throat. “That man over there is ten times the man you’ll ever be. Money and all. If you ever come back here, if you ever set foot in this town again, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

Howard laughed softly and asked, “You threatening me, girly?”

There was a flash of movement and, while Steven couldn’t see, he knew Natasha was holding something rather sharp to Howard’s groin. “Do we have an accord?”

Howard looked from her very serious expression to Bucky’s and Steven’s. Finally, he sighed and said, “Fine with me. Nothing keeping me here.” Then he left through the double doors and that was the last Steven saw of him.

He only hoped it was the last Tony saw of him, too.

X

The next time, Steven’s breaking up a bar fight. Not a rarity but Stark being involved made it a new and even more unpleasant experience.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Steven asks Karen the bar. Her eyes are wide with fear as she gestured to where one of Fisk’s men was slumped against the counter, blood on his face and a towel held to his nose. Then Steven looks to Tony who’s being held back by two men and yelling over the startled crowd.

“Get that nancy boy out of here!” the man shouted – Donald, Steven thought his name was. He pointed to Tony and yelled, “Son of a bitch sucker punched me.”

“I did not!” he shouted back as the two men, also Fisk’s men, continued to hold him back. One of them gave a rather rough twist to Tony’s arm, pulling it up behind his back and Steven rushed forward to pull the men back.

He takes Tony’s arm and pulls him away. Takes a few moments to check him over and when he seemed unharmed, he turned back to the group. “I’ve got it from here.”

“You sure?” The man on the left asked, his knuckles cracking threateningly as he eyed Tony. “He’s been a pain in our asses all night.”

“I’m sure. Thanks,” Steven said dryly as he took Tony’s arm and led him outside. “You seem to have a knack for getting into trouble.”

“Not my fault,” Tony maintained, walking a little awkwardly with Steven holding his arm. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

Steven sighed, suddenly more tired than he’d been before. “You never are.”

“Honest, I was just playing cards and the big one stiffed me. So, I told him he could write me an IOU and get it from his sugar daddy later. Then he got mad and I told him, if he was really nice, he could try kissing my ass instead. Then he lunged at me so I punched him.” Steven stopped walking and just stared at him for a moment. Tony shrugged again and Steven felt a laugh bubble up to the surface. He tried to cover it up but it was unmistakable from the way Tony’s eyes crinkled in response. His head cocked the side, smiling at Steven as he laughed. Then he asked, “Am I in trouble?”

Steven huffed out a breath, a grin on his face, “You always are.”

X

“What is it this time, Stark?” he asks, having been pulled out of bed to find his way to Foggy’s saloon. It was some sort of ladies’ night by the classier looks of things and the music playing. He could see Sue and Reed Richards dancing together in the corner as Alison Blair crooned over a slow ballad. It was all very lovely and wholesome; both reasons Steven couldn’t understand why Tony was here.

Tony gestured him closer, a cheerful grin on his face. He was really excited about something and some of that enthusiasm made its way to Steven. He comes closer and Tony grabs his arm. “Dance with me, Sheriff. All work and no play, you know.”

A few patrons nearby gave them a look. One of them Misty Knight from her place near the bar. Steven flushed and moved in closer, “You know I can’t. What are you doing here?”

“Why not?” Tony asked, honest to god pouting and Steven’s surprised by the way that pulls at his heart. “Don’t know how to? I can teach you, if you’d like? Would you like to lead? You look like a leading man,” he said coyly, looking up at Steven through his dark lashes.

There was a promise there and Steven didn’t want to see it; didn’t want to acknowledge it. It was bad enough the townspeople had started to pay a little too much attention to how he lingered outside of the boarding house. He thought he’d been careful; cautious. He’d thought Bucky was the only one who knew enough to guess until he’d come upon Castle talking with Urich one night about how he wondered if this Fisk thing would’ve been over by now if the sheriff spent more time arresting bad guys and less time “stemming the rose”. It stopped Steven in place, brought heat to the back of his neck as his stomach twisted sickeningly.

He prided himself on his honor, his sense of propriety. He stayed inside the lines, never wavering, held himself to a higher standard than most people upheld themselves. Sure, maybe he was too lenient with Tony. Maybe the man got some encouragement from Steven’s behavior but Steven never, _never_ did anything inappropriate. _Like singing him to sleep? You do that for all the prisoners,_ he thought before he shook the thought away. That was sympathy. It was sympathy and nothing more.

What did it matter what went on in the privacy of his own mind, especially at night when there was no one there to judge but God? He had committed no act, no sin, no crime. He stayed the course and kept his distance. Didn’t let his gaze linger too long even when Stark did his best to test that.

Didn’t matter, did it? The town was still talking and it wouldn’t be long before talking turned into acting and Steven could fend for himself. He could talk or fight his way out of most trouble but Stark… Tony wasn’t even a threat when he was sober. He spent most of his time half in the barrel and he would talk himself into more trouble. Steven couldn’t always be there.

And what about his job? The town needed a sheriff. Sure, Bucky could potentially take over but he had a temper and he had Natasha. They talked a good game but it wouldn’t be long before they settled down with a couple of young’uns. The town needed Steven – he certainly had no chance at that kind of life.

Tony was watching him challengingly, his hand on the counter as he leaned over provocatively. Steven feels that twist again, his shirt sticking to him as his neck burns. Everything about Tony, his posture, the look in his eyes, the curl of his mouth oozed sex. Suggested things Steven could only dream of but never allow himself to have.

His stomach was in knots, his hands shaking slightly where they rest at his sides. His heart pounded painfully in his chest, his hands clammy as he felt himself start to give in. Start to lean into Tony’s space where he could feel heat and smell booze and oil. Tony’s eyes widen minutely and then crinkle at the edges, welcoming Steven in as he moves – then the music stops. Steven freezes, his heart in his throat as his head whips around and the crowd starts cheering. Blinking rapidly, he lowers his eyes and says hoarsely, “I should go.”

“Hey,” Tony says softly, moving forward until Steven steps back immediately. He steps back further away from the crowd to the corner where it was darker. Inexplicably, Steven followed and here, he couldn’t really see Tony’s face. He could only hear his voice and smell his scent. “It’s no big deal.”

“Maybe not to you,” Steven says dismissively. He looked over his shoulder carefully at the crowd behind him. No one appeared to be looking their way but he knew how deceiving that assessment could be. “Why are you like this?”

Tony was quiet for a long time and then, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you this way? You’re – you’re always causing trouble. Always drawing everyone’s attention, making me want – making me come bail you out. Everything comes back to you. Everything! You think I like this?” He was being unfair; he knew that. He could hear it in the way his voice caught, his throat pained with it. He forced himself to stop, choke it down; take a step back. This wasn’t Tony’s fault. He didn’t ask for any of this. All he’d ever done was try to make Steven smile. Lighten up, live life like he actually wanted to be here. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve,” Tony began, his tone nervous and Steven hated that. Tony had never sounded nervous around him before. Nervousness was for lesser men and men that didn’t embrace the world like it was theirs to adjust – to be changed to accommodate him. “Dance with me.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Steven said, he tried for firm but it came out pleadingly. Tony came forward, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. His hand came up to rest on Steven’s shoulder, another sliding down Seven’s arm to take his wrist, then his hand. His hands were rough, calloused but gentle, even as they shook. His fingers were strong as they entwined with Steven’s. They felt good; they felt right and even as that makes Steven’s stomach twist, he feels that broken piece of him fall into place.

He’d been right.

He wasn’t guessing; this wasn’t some temporary insanity – no one, in all of the girls in school, the dame Bucky sent him out with, none of them had ever fit so perfectly in Steven’s space. So perfectly in his arms. Maybe it was just Tony but it felt so good… and Steven knew it was wrong. He’d never be allowed to have this.

“Stark,” he tries but Tony pulls him closer. “I can’t. You know that. It isn’t right,” he whispers urgently.

Tony leaned in, his breath warm on Steven’s face. His voice was quiet as he pressed their cheeks together. “They’re all dancing. They’re all tipsy. Who knows what they saw? If anyone asks, you think they’ll believe Karen Page saw the sheriff dancing with the devil?”

Steven choked out a laugh, his voice watery and brittle, “You’re not the devil.” He let Tony pull his hand to rest on the genius’ waist. Let’s himself be pulled further into the dark corner.

“I was sent here to destroy you,” Tony whispered with a smile, highlighting all the thoughts Steven had in the darkest recesses of his mind. Tony held Steven with such care, with such grace as he began to sway. It was a slow song; a soundtrack of some woman singing about her lost beau but Steven couldn’t hear the words. He could barely hear the music over the sound of his heart beating. Tony leaned in again, his voice soft, “That’s what they say.”

X

“You should consider spanking me,” Tony murmured the next time Steven brought him in. He said he “forgot his keys” when Steven picked him up.

“That tends to happen when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he says quietly. Then “My dad died.”

Steven stilled, studying Tony’s face more intently. His head was lowered, breathing labored as Steven opened the door to the station and let Tony go past him. Steven was nervous, didn’t know what to do with his hands, his arms. He crossed them as he followed Tony over to his desk.

“I’m sorry to hear that. You wanna talk about it?”

Tony slumped down on top of the desk instead of the chair or the bench in the cell. Both more appropriate places to be but Steven couldn’t be bothered to care about that now.

“What’s there to say? He was a bastard. I spent every moment of my life either scared of him or hating him. I should be happy he’s gone. _I am_ happy. Really, I’m – I’m,” he covered his mouth as a small strangled sound escaped him and then his eyes clench shut and he’s starts shaking. Steven reaches out for his shoulder but stops himself. It’s inappropriate. Tony shouldn’t be here – shouldn’t be this close to him. He shouldn’t be speaking with Steven in such a familiar way, especially considering what everyone knew about Tony and the company he kept.

But that ship sailed long ago and Tony had just lost his father.

Steven sucks in a breath and lets his hand fall on Tony’s shoulder and waits. Tony stops shaking, looks up at Steven through wet lashes. His eyes are dark, shadowed in the dim lighting and there’s the scent of salt in the air. The taste of it on his tongue as he leans in, starts to speak – unsure of what to say and then Tony’s lips are on his. Tough, unyielding, animated as his calloused hands come up to hold Steven’s face to his as they kiss.

Tony kisses like he can’t bear to do anything else. His hands hold fast to Steven’s cheeks as he presses his body against Steven’s. The desk digs into Steven’s thighs as Tony puts himself in Steven’s arms and slides his tongue inside, desperate, wanting. Steven feels the need take over, feels it push away all reservations and better judgment. His hands take hold of Tony’s shirt as his eyes close and he loses himself in Tony. Presses him against the desk as he bites and licks and sucks at that smart mouth. Breathes in Tony’s gasps and gentle sighs; makes them his own. Tony shudders, his cheeks wet beneath Steven’s hands when he moves to hold him impossibly closer. This is a terrible idea. The window is open and anyone could see. Bucky, Natasha, any number of the townspeople. This wasn’t safe.

Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let go. He couldn’t pull himself away from Tony just yet. Couldn’t make himself stop; stop holding him, stop kissing him. Stop touching him.

Stop talking to him. Stop seeing him. Stop volunteering to be the one to bring him in.

Tony was under his skin now. He was the first thing Steven thought about when he woke up and he was the last thing he thought about at night. He was the reason Steven found excuses to walk by the taverns at night – not because he thought they needed the extra security but because he thought he might stand a chance of heading Stark off night after night. He was the reason Steven started singing again.

Because of Tony, he’d found a new reason to get up in the morning.

Even so, even with the incessant need to touch, to let himself have this after so long of denying himself, Steven pulls back. Ignores the painful pull in his heart and steps back, separates himself and covers his mouth. Tony’s panting, his eyes on Steven as he steps further back.

“You’re upset. You just lost your father. It’s - its understandable that you might need… some sort of comfort right now.” He looks over at Tony who’s watching him silently. “What do you need?”

Tony flinches, his head lowering. Then, he took a step, then another and wrapped his arms around Steven’s shoulders, his cheek pressing into Steven’s chest. His chest heaved, a muffled sob and Steven held him tighter. He moves to lean against the desk as he cupped the back of Tony’s head and held him close.

X

When Bucky dies, Steven shuts himself in the station for days. Days turn to weeks and who knows if Tony is causing trouble in the taverns. Steven’s not there to see it. Steven’s not there to bring him home and make sure he didn’t fall asleep in the street.

Tony comes by the station. Steven’s there but the lights stay out and no one comes to the door. Not even when Tony threatens to knock it down.

So, he starts to sing.

Quietly at first. Old ditties, lullabies and lastly, “Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.”

It’s been three months. Three long months and Steven couldn’t bring himself to see the world the same way. What was it worth when everything felt different now? He couldn’t walk through Timely without seeing the places Bucky had been. Couldn’t stand in this station without picturing Bucky sitting at his desk with his feet propped up. Couldn’t go around town without fearing running into Natasha and hearing her blame him for not knowing better; for not protecting Bucky better. He didn’t know how to be this person. He didn’t know who this person was.

And now Stark was singing to him and Steven wanted nothing more than for him to leave.

He got up, shuffled over to the door and yanked it open. Stark’s voice cuts off abruptly as he falls into the station. He gets up hurriedly, his eyes wide as he takes in Steven’s rage. “I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I don’t know if you missed it but my deputy’s gone.”

“I know that,” Stark says quietly.

“You know that,” Steven repeats blandly.

“Yes, I know that. I also know that you were there for me when I lost my dad so I thought…” he trails off and Steven knows what’s expected of him. Knows the kind of thing to do would be to pick this up, take up the conversation instead of leaving this awkward silence. Instead, he just waits, crosses his arms and stares at him expectantly. Tony sucks in a breath and whispers, “I get that everybody grieves in different ways. Mine was sobriety, strangely enough. Yours seems to be wallowing in silence. I get that. But you have people that care about you.”

Steven stares at him, unsettled. After the kiss, Tony kept a careful distance. He made his jokes, his usual come ons but he toed the line. Steven couldn’t look at him without remembering how it felt to hold him close, to kiss him. To _have_ him and then give him away. Just having him here, so close after months felt like being set in front of a lake after months without water and being unable to drink.

“I care about you. This town cares about you. You can’t disappear. If you need your time, if you need space, that’s fine.” He shifted his feet, nerves taking over. It was that that did it; the uncharacteristic nervousness in combination with the realization that _he just didn’t care anymore_. “I just wanted you to know that.”

Steven feels the familiar hunger pull him forward, his heart twisting at the pleading look in Tony’s eyes. He slides a hand behind Tony’s head, savors the brief moment when the uncertainty turns to surprise and he pulls the genius into a kiss. He hears Tony sigh and whisper, “Thank god. You’re in there.”

X

Steven was nervous.

He’d checked his hair three times in the looking glass and fastened and removed his holster three times. No, he was bringing it. He may not be on duty but he was the only protection this town had until he could find someone to provide support. He finally gave himself one last look over and left the station.

He was going to Foggy’s. That was it. No big deal. He’d been there several times before. Nothing unusual about tonight.

Except that Tony was waiting for him there. He’d said so in not so many words.

When he arrives, he’s given a warm welcome from several of the patrons. He’s sure they were just relieved to see him out in the world after spending so much time hiding away in the station. He knows they mean well but after a while, it starts to feel pitying. He wonders if Natasha had gotten the same treatment.

Tony’s sitting at the bar chatting with Karen. She lived in the boarding house with him and she was a nice enough girl. As far as Steven knew, she’d never told anyone about the night he’d danced with Tony. Steven straightens his vest and heads for the bar, his back ramrod straight.

He was just having a drink, that’s all. Nothing untoward about that.

Karen spots him first, a kind smile on her face as she grabs a glass. “Sheriff, good to see you. What can I get ya?”

Steven didn’t drink, never developed a taste for it. But it’d look strange if he came here and didn’t order a drink. “Just a whiskey for me, thanks.”

He sat down on the stool as Tony winked at him. He flushed, hid a smile as he looked down at the counter. “This is weird.”

“How so?” Tony asked with a smile. “We’re just two gents ordering a drink.”

“We’re two gents meeting up at the same place, at the same time to…”

“To?” Tony asked with a raised brow. He let Steven squirm for a moment and finished, “Enjoy each other’s company. Look, Stephen and Richards do it all the time. There’s nothing strange about it.”

That was true, Steven supposed. It was just him that was being weird about it. It’s just… he doubted Stephen spent the night smiling at Richards like he hung the moon. He doubted Richards spent the night eying Stephen like he was picturing him naked.

“You’re right, you’re right. I guess I’m just… nervous,” he whispered.

Tony’s eyes softened as he set his glass down. “Don’t be. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want,” he said firmly. He laughed softly and answered, “To be honest, I was surprised you showed.”

“Really?”

“Truth be told, I’m never sure why you put up with me.”

Steven frowned, wishing he could touch Tony’s hand but knowing that would be one step too far. Too risky in a bar full of people, even if Karen was sweet on Tony. So, he swallowed the urge and turned to face the bar.

“When I was younger, my mom took me fishing. Unusual, I know but she was a resourceful lady. Didn’t like having anything handed to her. And my daddy had passed the year before and… I wasn’t in a good place. We went fishing and on our way back, we ran into a dog on walking along the side of the road. Mangy little thing, hadn’t eaten in days by the looks of it. I gave it my ham sandwich and my mom poured out some water. We took him home,” he explains. “He was tiny but he was scrappy, talkative. Woke us up some nights just yapping away in the doghouse we built. Followed me around like a second shadow and stole all of my attention,” he said with a fond smile.

Tony tipped his head back and finished his drink, crunching on a piece of ice. “I’m the dog right? In this little story, I’m the dog?”

Steven laughed and explained, “I loved that dog. I thought I saved his life. Took care of him when he needed help and he slept beside me when I could get away with it. I thought I saved his life.”

“You did. Little lost dog comes into your life, complicates everything. You cleaned it up, made it respectable. Now you’ve graduated to rescuing poor little rich boys in distress,” he says with a self-deprecating grin. Karen sets a glass in front of Steven and refills Tony’s glass. He holds it up in a toast to Steven, “A toast? To the patron saint of lost causes.”

X

It was a strange thing, dating Tony in secret.

There was no other word for it. When he showed up at the tavern around the same time he knew Tony would be there – for the sole purpose of seeing him, they were dating. It wasn’t a fact Steven could deny. His mama didn’t raise no fools and he wasn’t so afraid of this town and it’s closed mindedness that he couldn’t admit it to himself. No one else had to know. They could suspect and speculate and shoot all the dirty looks they wanted but they didn’t _know_. Not for sure.

Maybe it didn’t make him an honorable man. Maybe the townsmen and the Bible were right about that. Maybe he wouldn’t get into heaven but life was short and Tony was _here_ and alive and warm and kind. He was clever and funny and he made Steven feel like he could do this – he could still be the sheriff and spent his time protecting this town and he could still be a person underneath all of that. Tony needed someone to look after him. Tony needed someone to look after, evidently. He’d been introducing Steven to more and more things; gadgets, ways of thinking, speech, songs. Bawdy tales and all, he was teaching Steven new songs. Each dirtier than the last just to make him flush and squirm until he told Tony to cut it out.

Like now, he was leaning in, as close as he dared surrounded by others as he crooned, “Oh yes, kind sir, I stand in need. Of a grain that’s called the wanton seed,” Steve flushed brightly, his blood warming but he didn’t look away; drawn to the mischievous promise found in Tony’s gaze. “Oh yes, kind sir, you’re the man to do the deed. For to sow my meadow with the wanton seed. For to sow my meadow with the wanton seed.”

“Tony,” Steve chided and Tony smiled innocently and leaned back, took a swig of his beer. He held his hands out in surrender.

“It’s been 9 months of song and dance, Sheriff.”

“Meaning?” Steven asked, anticipation ticking his heart rate up.

“We’re common law married, you and I.”

“That’s not true,” Steven said with a laugh. He didn’t look to see if anyone had heard. After all, Tony was known for saying outlandish things. Anyone listening in would just think he was joking. Although, by the heavy lidded gaze, he was very much not joking.

“We’re an item, you and I. I think you’re up for it, you can come up to see my room.”

“See your room,” Steven repeated slowly.

“See my room. I told you, free of charge.” He winked and pushed the rest of his nearly full tankard away from him. He didn’t drink as much when Steven met with him. He wasn’t sure it was out of respect or because he wanted to remember more of their encounters. Steven hoped it was the latter.

“What kind of man would I be if I spent the night in that house?” he asked quietly. He wasn’t judging Tony; he was honestly asking. He wonders what his mama would say if she knew. He hopes she’d be happy that he found someone but he’d never told her what he was, didn’t have a word for it then and he didn’t want to break her heart. She went to her grave not knowing and part of him regrets that. And Bucky… at least he’d known and after everything he’d said, Steven doubts he’d approve.

Tony’s eyes narrowed a bit as he replied, “A dishonorable one? A corrupted one? A pansy. A nancy. A sinner. A sodomite. An abomination.” He smiled cruelly as he added, “I’ve been called every name in the book and some you probably haven’t thought of yet.”

Faced with the unpleasant glint in Tony’s eye, Steven felt his stomach twist. The lighthearted mood from before was gone. This was the man he’d only ever seen in the presence of Howard Stark. Hell, Howard had probably called his son half of those names. To know he’d put that look in Tony’s eyes made Steven feel awful. “I’m sorry. I – I didn’t mean-“

Tony stood up and set down some money. It was more than enough to cover his tab but then again, Tony had always tipped generously. Something about “supporting the local talent”. Strange considering Steven had never seen him work for anything and his father seemed to have disowned him. How was he getting his money? Surely he hadn’t taken up the work his neighbors had. He remembers the dream he’d had months ago, where Tony was dressed similarly to some of the women Steven had seen that night at the boarding house. He feels his face start to warm and forces himself to think about anything else.

Tony turned to go and Steven had a moment to grab his wrist. To say sorry and explain that he liked this – this delicate balance they’d struck where neither would name what they were doing but they showed up all the same. He didn’t know how to say that he wasn’t ready but he didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want Tony to stop showing up.

“Tony,” he tried and Tony spun around, his eyes flashing.

“Save it. You know… I’ve had my share of disappointments. I’ve seen people I’ve considered to be my friends stab me in the back over my father’s money. I’ve been used and manipulated and blackmailed and sold. Maybe I should’ve known better but I thought you – I thought,” he cut himself off, his eyes wide and pained. For a moment there was shine to them and Steven feared he was going to start crying. Evidently, Tony had the same fear and he covered his mouth and left the room.

Steven covered his face and cursed.

X

When Steven runs into Tony the next time, Miss Potts was with him.

They were outside of Morales’ Feed Store and Tony was leaning heavily against a post. Steven steps up carefully, wary of the affronted look on Tony’s face. Miss Potts smiled at him relieved. “Thank God, Sheriff. Can you help us?”

He watched as Tony glared at him for a moment longer and then lowered his gaze to his feet. Steven sighed and looked to Miss Potts. “Yes, of course-“

“I don’t need his help.”

“Tony,” Steven began. “You can barely walk-“

“I don’t need his help!” Tony shouted. “If I can’t make it back, just leave me here. I’m not going anywhere near – I don’t want him to touch me.” The words sent chills down Steven’s spine.

Now Miss Potts was eying them strangely; Tony with curiosity and Steven with distrust. She came closer to touch Tony’s face, “Tony, what’s going on?”

Tony doesn’t raise his head, “I’ll be fine. The Sheriff can go now. Not like he’d set foot in our house anyway. He’d probably burst into flames.”

Steven felt his temper start to rise, “Tony-“

“I said you can go now,” Tony says. “You think we’re just whores and sluts, and demons of impropriety and whatever your preacher warns about on your pulpit every Sunday before he leaves the church and I get to hear those holy words again through the thin walls in my room.”

“Stark,” Steven tried again, his voice rising.

“You are a self-righteous, stubborn bastard and if you ever see me on the street, just ignore me the way you do the rest of the girls in my home.” He stood on unsteady legs and started towards the boarding house.

“Fine!” Steven yelled, his temper flaring when Stark waved him off absently.

Miss Potts stood there, mouth agape before she spared Steven one last glance and followed after him. He was steady enough, only stumbled once but Steven couldn’t leave. He watched from a safe distance until they made it inside.

X

  
Life after Tony was strange to say the least.

Months ago, he might have even liked it. How he’d never really noticed how many people refusing to acknowledge him before, he’d never know. Somehow word spread about their rift, most likely after their public argument. He couldn’t really be sure and to be honest, it pained him to think about others seeing Tony scream at him like that. Nonetheless, whenever he went out, it was as if he’d never met Tony.

Mr. Grimm greeted him with a smile. Mrs. Parker wished him farewell when he passed her on the street. Castle’s grunt “hello” was less terse than usual. Call him crazy but it seemed that even Mr. Lumpkin was in the mood to spare him a kind word. Everyone seemed have forgotten about his “lapse” in judgment. It was surreal. It should’ve felt pleasant. Nice. Normal.

Somewhere between Mr. Richards asking him over for dinner and Logan inviting him to the guys’ weekly poker night, Steven started to feel a dull pain in his chest. He pushed past it, ignored it and continued on as if everything was fine.

"You in?" Summers asked.

Logan looked as though he would be bothered either way but Steven nodded, a tight smile on his face. He wanted to ask. Feels a strange, unknown part of him demand to know if this was all happening because he was opening himself up more or because Tony was out of the picture. Would they have asked if he'd come to them with Tony at his side? Would they have asked if they knew what he was?

He made his rounds, locked up a few of Fisk’s men for gambling. Ate his lunch, cleaned up around the station. Chatted some with Sam and then went on home. A normal day. 

He tidied up some around the house. Made himself dinner and then he settled down for the night in his bed, blew out the candles and it was only as he lay back that he feels himself shudder. He turns onto his side, clenches his eyes shut and wills himself to sleep but he can’t. All it takes is one stuttered breath, one harsh intake and then he’s shaking, the pillow beneath him moist, clenched in his grip. He thinks about Dodger, about Bucky, about his mother.

It’d been years since he’d cried and here he was, biting down, trying to choke it down. For a brief moment, he doesn’t understand.

He was respected. He was back in everyone’s good graces.

This was what he’d worked so hard for.

X

One would think their fight meant Tony would stop getting so inebriated around town. He hadn’t. Instead, it was up to Steven’s new deputy, Sam Wilson, to bring him in. Steven found the guy when Tony spotted him working the coalmine with Barton. As much as Steven never wanted to hear about Barton, he agreed to meet with Sam and to his surprise, the man was perfect for the job. He cared about justice just as much as Steven and he was kind and fair. He did the job well, even if some of the ignorant townspeople didn’t think so.

All this to say that the next time Tony was picked up for drunken behavior, it was Sam that went. Steven didn’t know why – maybe the bartenders requested him out of respect for their most valued customer. Sam gave Steven a confused look before he headed out.

“Isn’t this usually your job?” he asked politely. Steven wasn’t sure how much he knew or suspected but Sam never gave the impression of thinking poorly of Steven for his… friendship with Tony.

“He’s upset with me,” Steven said carefully. He kept it vague to avoid making it sound like a lovers’ tiff. _Even though that was exactly what it was_ , he thought. “Lucky you, you get to go on a tour of every tavern in town.”

“Oh, happy day,” Sam said sarcastically and left the station. When he returned, Tony was with him and looking less than enthused to see Steven here.

“You summoned me,” he said bitterly.

“I did no such thing. You got yourself into trouble again. It’s six o’clock, Stark. Its way too early to be three sheets to the wind.”

“What I do is none of your business,” Tony said before turning to Sam with a curious stare. “You’re new.”

“Fairly.”

“You’re tall,” he added with a coy smile and Steven didn’t like that one bit.

“Fairly,” Sam sad with an amused expression.

“I like this one,” Tony said as he leaned back to sit on the edge of Sam’s desk. “Say, Deputy Handsome-“

“Sam,” he corrected.

“Sam,” Tony conceded with a pleasant tone. It was similar to the one he used to use with Steven and even though he knew Tony was doing it to rile him up, it still stung.

“Stark” Steven warned.

“What? I’m just talking,” he said evenly. “Sam, what would you say if you saw two men dancing in a tavern?”

Sam frowned a bit, his hands coming up to rest on his belt buckle. It was subtle, drawing focus to his badge and Steven felt himself tense, unsure. If this went south, if Tony talked himself into trouble… well Steven wasn’t very happy with him right now but if it came down to it, he’d have to intervene. “What would I say? It’s harmless. Why, you offering, Tony?”

Steven froze, his heart pounding but calming slowly as Tony relaxed more and grinned at Sam indulgently. “Maybe? You look like you know how to lead a lady around a dance floor.”

“Careful, Stark. Some folks wouldn’t take too kindly to two men, especially one of my color dancing with one of yours.”

Tony considered it for a moment before he stood up again and crossed his arms. “Some folks in this town need to mind their business.”

Sam nodded, picking up his keys. “What happens now? Do we just give you a stern talking to and then you’re free to go?”

Tony snorted and said, “Oh, I like you. He usually walks me home,” Tony answers absently. “Like I’m a southern belle and he’s guarding my virginity. That ship sailed long ago, I’m afraid.”

Sam laughed and said to Steven, “I can take him. If that’s okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Tony said with a wave of his hand. “He doesn’t own this town.”

Steven stared at him and shook his head, sets his mug down. He doesn’t look up as he says, “Take him home. Make sure he stays there.”

X

Weeks later and Tony is singing outside of the station. It’s the song he’d sung to Tony all those months ago when he was half drunk and barely capable of keeping his shoes on. It’s jarring and Steven grumbles to himself, “Not tonight, Stark.”

Then Tony shouts and Steven jumps to his feet. He’s out the door, gun in his holster before he even thinks about what he’s rushing into. A man, a stranger with a bull’s eye on his forehead is holding Tony with a pistol pressed to his cheek.

Steven’s heart is in his throat and he should think this through. He’d been around several emotionally unstable men with pistols and he knew how one wrong move could make them pull the trigger, even if they don’t mean to. He should be careful. He should be methodical.

He knows better than to run right up and slam his fist into the guy’s face.

The guy stumbles slightly, lets go of Tony and then smiles at Steven amused. It was a smile Steven had seen before on other people in this town. Fisk’s people. It was also a smile that said he knew why Steven hadn’t thrown that punch with more control. He knew why Steven hadn’t been able to think as clearly. He was laser focused on that scarred barrel pressing into Stark’s face, the fear in his eyes and he’d just reacted.

Steven deals with the guy, Bullseye he calls himself, and then finds Tony at the bar in the boarding house. He’s talking to Betty and upon seeing Steven, he comes right over, ice pack in hand. “What were you thinking?” he demands.

Steven blinks at him confusedly as Tony pushes him down into a chair. He presses the pack over Steve’s knuckles. This is the closest Tony’s been in weeks and he still smelled the same. His lashes were long and dark as they fanned out over his cheek, his lips bright red and wet as his tongue swiped over them before he spoke. His voice was deep, annoyed but even so, it filled Steven with excitement. He felt better than he had in months. He felt like he could breathe again.

Tony’s eyes met his and the deep blue was all encompassing, vibrant and warm even tinged with anger. God, this man was beautiful and Steven just sat there quiet and let Tony’s voice wash over him.

“I know you get your jollies tormenting me but maybe pay more attention to yourself. He had a gun! You could have been killed.”

Steven just stared at him and Tony let out a frustrated breath and returned to Steven’s hand. “Right, right, so could I. But you, you! You should’ve known better than to – to just jump in there,” he continued as Steven began to smile and nod indulgently. He felt eyes on him and looked over to see Betty bent over the bar talking to Misty. Her eyes cut to Steven a few times but they didn’t seem to be judging him. If anything, they seemed fond of them.

Maybe because this was Tony and they knew and loved him. It was strange how different these women reacted to Tony compared to the townspeople. Then again, they were also the subjects of less than favorable gossip.

Tony set Steven’s hand down and ran a hand through his hair. The curls shifted into an artful mess, Steven noted amusingly as Tony looked up at him. He cocked his head to the side adorably, his voice cautious. “I have to thank you.”

Steven shook away his musing and waved him off, “No, you don’t. I was doing my job.” Tony’s hand came down over his again, soft and warm.

“Yes, I do. You and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately but you still came to protect me when I needed it.” He took a deep breath. “We both know you weren’t just doing your job.”

Steven eyed him and resisted the urge to give in and look to see if Betty and Misty were still watching them. No one seemed to care here. What few men were here were too busy trying to make sure Steven wasn’t going to arrest them for engaging with prostitutes. The women didn’t seem to bat an eye. It made him wonder if he was the first man Tony brought home but that was none of his business.

He took a deep breath and made himself speak, “No, I wasn’t. I… I care about you. I’ve tried to stop. I’ve tried to – to keep away from you but I don’t want to do that anymore. What I said – I didn’t say that to hurt you. We’re different people you and I. I know that. I know that I don’t always say the right thing and I’m,” he swallowed thickly. “Maybe I’m not the right person to give you what you need but I care about you. You complicate my life, drive me crazier than anyone ever has but I can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe you don’t make me a better man but you make me a part of this world. You make me feel like I’m needed. So, no, I wasn’t just doing my job but don’t thank me. I should’ve thanked you.”

Tony just stared at him, eyes wide. This was probably the longest he’d ever gone without speaking around Steven and the longer the silence stretched on, the more Steven started to sweat but he didn’t look away. Tony swallowed thickly and asked, “Will you come upstairs with me?”

Steven froze, his chest melting as he took in Tony’s cautiously hopeful expression, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges and he chewed on his bottom lip to pin down his smile. Steven knew what it felt like to press his lips against Tony’s. To taste him, slide his tongue into Tony’s mouth. He knew all of that because of Tony. Because he’d taken the leap when Steven was too afraid to. “Do you still think me a kind a man?” he asked quietly.

Tony thought for a moment and lowered his gaze. “Underneath all of that fear … yes. You are a kind man. You should let yourself have things, Rogers.”

“Things?” he asked quietly. Everything narrowed in and it was just he and Tony sitting at this bar. No music, no one else, no clattering of glasses and cutlery. Just him and Tony and the vanishing space between them.

His eyes fell to Tony’s mouth as he grinned. “Me.”

 

The door slams shut as Tony presses Steven against it. Their mouths slot together, Steven’s unsure what to do with his hands. He wants to touch, to clutch Tony close to him and catalogue the lines of his body. But they’d never done this before and he didn’t want to mess up. Tony drops to his knees and Steven feels his breath catch, confused for a moment before Tony reached for his belt buckle. “I’ve – I’ve heard about this.”

Tony huffs out a laugh as he pulls him out. Steven’s wet, he’s always been a leaker. Made for a discreet masturbator because he couldn’t risk making a mess so he didn’t take risks at all. Tony pauses to grin up at him, his expression disbelieving. Steven looked down at him, his stomach flipping because just the sight of his cock messy and slick that close to Tony’s brilliant mouth was nearly too much for him. “Who’ve you been speaking to, Sheriff? One of the girls downstairs?” he asked, his breath teasing on Steven’s cock.

“No,” he said, cutting himself off with a moan as Tony licks at the head tentatively. A swipe of Tony’s tongue and he’s leaking more, desperate, his hips bucking lightly. He groans and it slips out, Bucky’s privacy be damned. “Bucky told me. It’s a thing people do.”

“Not just anyone,” Tony said, swiping over the head again. His eyes close briefly, adoring as he jerks Steven firmly. His eyes blink open, nearly dazed, “Whores.”

“Do they like to be called that?” Steven asked and the question startles a laugh out of Tony. He pulls back, his hand moving as he grins.

“You really are the perfect gentleman.” He returns to Steven’s cock, adding, “To tell the truth, they don’t care. It’s all about context… tone. For example, my father called me a cocksucker and meant it to try to shame me. You on the other hand… you could make it sound affectionate.” He paused, panting softly as he jerked Steven’s cock in a tight grip. “Factual.”

He leans forward and takes the head of Steven’s cock in his mouth, the warm, pliable heat engulfing him. He lets out a shout, tries to cover it up by shoving his fist in his mouth while Tony sucks urgently at his cock. It feels like Tony’s trying to suck the life out of him as he sucks, pulls back to slurp and smack at the head before taking him all the way down. The heat is like nothing Steven has ever felt and he feels on the cusp of something – some big break that tears him apart from the inside out. Tony’s tongue is flat on the side of cock, sliding over the veins, tasting him. He has to be – Steven was messy, precome smeared alone the side of Tony’s face.

He should wipe it off, it was obscene it was – it was obvious but it was beautiful. It was his mark, it was Tony’s devotion – it was proof. He wipes it off with a swipe of his thumb, his cock jerking in Tony’s mouth as it drags a moan out of him. Tony’s face turns into his palm and it’s such a small thing, barely perceptible but it gives Steven pause. Just long enough for Tony to sink the rest of the way down, his nose pressing into Steven’s pelvis as he swallows. “Christ, Tony – Tony! I can’t – I’m going to-“ Tony swallows again, his eyes closed in devotion as Steven’s head knocks back against the door and he comes. It almost feels like dying – the moment at the top of the valley where his heart damn near beats out of his chest, his body quivers and his cock jerks hard, once more as he spills everything he has to give down Tony’s throat. He just takes it, holds Steven by the back of his thighs and swallows.

Factual.

When he comes down, Tony is still sucking lightly at his sensitive cock, smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Steven shivers at the sight and spurts more come every now and then, the warm air making him sweat lightly. “That – that was a thank you.”

Tony looks up at him through his lashes, his pink tongue poking out to swipe over the tip once more. Steven gives a pathetic groan and Tony huffs out a laugh. “You’re welcome.”

Steven palms his face gently as he catches his breath. “How do I thank you?”

Tony waved him off, “Don’t have to. This isn’t for everyone,” he says, gesturing to his mouth.

That wouldn’t do. Steven had already taken the leap. He’d followed Tony upstairs. He was here.

Might as well go all in.

He takes Tony’s hand and insists, “Show me.”

 

Tony sits down on the bed a dubious expression on his face as Steven unfastens his belt buckle. Then he decides better of it and reaches for the vest of Tony’s three-piece suit. “Want to see all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Tony says lowly. At Steven’s confusion, he explains, “Inventing hasn’t been easy on my body. I have… some scars.”

Steven doesn’t like seeing Tony so disparaging when speaking about himself. He wants to see but he wants to respect Tony’s wishes. He leans forward, his forearms rest on Tony’s thigh as he says, “I lived through a war. I have scars, too. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to see. But if you’d rather not show me, that’s okay, too.”

Tony studies him a bit and nods. Lets Steven take off his jacket and unbutton his vest. When he gets to his shirt buttons, his hands take Steven’s between his own with a gasp. Steven waits with him, waits for the okay before Tony lets him go and Steven starts on the first button. The fabric slowly opens to reveal a varying array of scars. Pink, red, white healed over scar tissue peppered Tony’s chest. Some puckered like shrapnel, some flat like burns, a few slashes like cuts that turned Steven’s stomach thinking about how much they must’ve hurt. His eyes feel warm as he pulls the shirt off of Tony’s shoulders and sees a jagged mark on Tony’s shoulder. There was no way to know what made the mark but it was so awkwardly placed, such an angle that would’ve been impossible for Tony to have done it himself. It’s old – decades old. Tony must’ve been a child.

Steven closes his eyes and presses a kiss over the scar, thinks more on it and kisses another behind Tony’s ear. And another over his clavicle. Tony’s breath stutters, his chest softly rising and falling under Steven’s ministrations. His lips, his tongue trace over Tony’s left nipple, over his navel, over the peaks and subtle valleys of his ribs. He doesn’t stop until Tony’s lying on his back, writhing beneath Steven’s movements, his broad hands guiding his path down Tony’s body. Tony wasn’t lying; his body was littered with scars. Some large, some small and Steven made it his job to learn every one of them.

He takes off Tony’s trousers and plants himself between his legs, his hand behind Tony’s knee as he kisses the inside of his thigh. It was different having the light tickle of hair against his cheek but it wasn’t unpleasant. This was Tony – he was finally letting himself have Tony the way he’d always wanted. Giving in felt so _damn good._

He sucks a mark into the place where Tony’s thigh meets his groin and hears Tony groan from above. He finally finds himself face to face with Tony’s cock. It was… a cock. Not unlike Steven’s. It was darker, more of a reddish tint than pink. It was flushed, the head swollen and wet where it drooled precome along Tony’s thigh. Steven leans in, smells his musky scent and swipes up the thin trail with his tongue. A bitter flavor explodes on his tongue; not unpleasant but nothing to write home about. He takes hold of Tony’s cock and gives another experimental taste, a pointed lick over the head. The taste is stronger, he pokes his tongue along the slit and has to hold Tony more solidly beneath him when he bucks in response and leaks more for him. He swipes his tongue flat over the head, drawing a helpless groan from Tony’s lips. Steven feels the familiar heat churn in the pit of his stomach as he does it again, leans in and spreads Tony’s legs wider for him. That sound, that helpless whine in Tony’s throat – that was why Tony enjoyed this. Steven would keep this memory for all his days to come.

He does it again, swipes his tongue flat over the head and makes Tony arch his back, press himself more into Steven’s arms. It made him feel powerful to have Tony like this – to see him give himself over. Another swipe, another barely contained moan and Steven was considering switching professions. He could do this all day. The walls were thin, he reminded himself and felt another flash of heat at the idea of others hearing Tony’s cries. Of them hearing him call out for more and knowing who was drawing those sounds from Tony’s lips. He looks up to see Tony’s eyes were closed, his lips red and swollen from when he’d wrapped them around Steven’s cock. His own cock jerks sympathetically and returns to Tony. “Teach me.”

Tony licked his lips, shaking his head. “You’re doing just fine. Really, you’re a natural.”

Steven turns a groan into a kiss to Tony’s thigh. “I don’t want to do fine. Teach me,” he says as his hand strokes Tony slowly in his hand.

“Mmmmm, okay.” He opened his eyes briefly, took one look at Steven’s hand around his cock, the head pressed against his bottom lip and closed his eyes again with a moan. “Just – just take it slow. Do what feels right. Kind of – you know, move your hand a bit around the part that’s not in your mouth and just-“

Steve wrapped his lips around the head, sucking lightly. It was difficult; he was unsure what to do with his teeth. It took a moment, a few less than stellar attempts before he got his mouth around the head and stroked Tony carefully into his mouth. Tony seemed to love just about anything Steven did. Were it not for his superior strength, he wouldn’t have been able to get anything done once Tony started squirming and trying to hug Steven’s head in the place between his thighs.

Steven sucked harder, his grip firming up as he felt Tony’s movements get sloppier, desperate. He tried to take more of Tony into his mouth, choking a bit before he took Tony’s advice. Tries a little bit at a time, inch by inch until he has nearly all of Tony in his mouth and the genius is a mess beneath his hands. “Want you – inside of me,” Tony pleads, the words sending a thrill down Steven’s spine. He’d never really thought about it but he guesses it must be possible He’d heard rumors, usually in conjunction with some nasty comments about Tony. Could they do it? Could he really make love to Tony?

He groans low in his throat, the vibrations and the warm suction of his mouth sending Tony over the edge. He buries his face in a nearby pillow, his thighs wrapping tight around Steven’s ears as he floods Steven’s mouth with come. He pulls back, some of Tony’s release spilling out around the corners of his mouth as he jerks Tony through. Coaxes out as much as he can get even as Tony starts to whine and his breath comes out in gasps.

As Tony comes down, he pulls Steven up to rest at the head of the bed. Steven comes, his head resting on Tony’s pillow, the space too small to really accommodate their broad shoulders. He ends up more on top of Tony than the bed as he traces a burn on Tony’s right pec, above his nipple. He studies the way Tony’s face moves, the minute movements between his brows, the quirk of his lips and smiles fondly. He feels warm, content… _happy_. It’s been so long since he’s been happy.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Tony’s brows rise, his smile widening. “You said that before. Stop it.” Steven laughs as Tony turns to face him more head on. “Don’t thank me.”

Steven kissed his lips, the scar on his shoulder. “When I told you about my puppy, about Dodger, you missed the point. I thought I saved his life but he saved mine. He gave me a reason to hope again. _You_ gave me a reason to hope again.” He pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. “So, I thank you. And I love you.”

He waits with bated breath, his heart beating painfully hard in his chest. Eventually he pulls back to see Tony snoring softly, his chest rising and falling. Steven closed his eyes, covering a quiet laugh. He kissed Tony’s forehead, gathered the covers beneath them and covering them both. He supposed he’d be sleeping here tonight… and everyone was just going to have to deal with it. He could leave; gather his clothes and sneak out. Maybe everyone would assume he’d just been bringing Tony home.

But Steven didn’t want to.

He lies down next to Tony and settles, his eyes closing. He could let himself have this. He could let himself be selfish just this once.

And after, he’d finally take care of Fisk’s men.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read 1872, you may not know how this ends. Pretty soon after the "Not tonight, Stark" scene, Sheriff Steven Rogers is shot and killed confronting Fisk's men. This was one of my all time favorite Marvel short series and it broke me.


End file.
